Tales of an Outcast
by Fallenwolfe
Summary: My mother and father were killed by Romans before my own eyes. Now am forced to serve the people I hate most, but I will escape and return home, no matter how long it takes me. Should be AU -Rated M for language, gore, violence, and sexual content.-


**Chapter 1: Viking Turned Slave!**

The moisture from my breath crystalized into puffs of white vapor as I sat silently in the snow. It was cold out, even for Knifepoint Island, which was an island located firmly on the buttocks of the world a few miles north of Outcast Island. I had been out in the snow-covered, pine forest for a few days hunting my prey, and its trail was growing more freshly by the footstep.

A loud snap shattered the soft silence of the calm forest, instantly my eyes locked onto the source but my head didn't move an inch. At first I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but as I focused more closely I could see a disturbance in the white where a sliver of snow had fallen off the low-hanging branch of a small pine.

My breathing sub-consciously stopped as I focused so hard it seemed as if a tunnel had formed around my line of sight, blocking out everything from my peripherals but magnifying my target…a gently rising puff of smoke, hidden behind the tree.

With a sudden explosion of energy I hefted my shield and spear and charged at the prey I so desperately needed to kill.

But it wasn't my prey…

A massive form suddenly appeared from behind the tree. It was too late to change my course of action so I did the only thing any Viking worth his name would do, I ran faster and pushed myself off of a boulder, hoping to reach high enough to stab the thing's neck.

"oof!" I lost my breath as I collided mid-air with a shield, a feeling I had plenty of experience with. It was a man I had charged at, but not any man from here, nor any of the islands of the north.

"Ha ha ha, you are a feisty one are you not and so young too, how old are you boy?" Clearly he was a foreigner, his voice was too soft, too smooth to speak my language, I could barely understand him.

"Och, new thas none o yer business is it yeh great lurking hunk o whale lard?!" Quickly, I jumped to my feet, my shield raised in front of me with my spear gripped tightly just to the side, pointed straight at the man's heart.

I noticed as he tried to shuffle around me that he wasn't as big as I first thought, his head would barely top my father's barrel of a chest, but he wore so much armor I could hardly see any skin but he still towered over me though.

"Didn't your parents teach you any manners, boy?" I could see him relax as he calmly set down a giant square shaped shield that curved at the edges; I had never seen anything like it before. On his belt was a straight edged sword, but it was short and light, not much good for killing large opponents, but more than enough for a child.

I didn't let my fear show as I literally growled at him, like I had seen wild wolves do when facing off. "The only sort o respect a dirty outlander like yerself gets here, is a good kick in the arse!"

"Well then boy, I suppose I'll have to teach you some manners!" as he drew his sword I knew I couldn't win this fight, some opponents were just too big to overcome, especially for a boy only seven winters old. Desperately I searched for a way to escape, I would much prefer a beating from my father for running away than a missing arm, or leg, or spine.

In a flash of red and golden armor the man stepped towards me and just as I jumped back to narrowly avoid his grab an earsplitting screech sent snow flying from the branches of the trees, blanketing our vision with drifting snowflakes.

"NIGHT FURY!" In a panic I dove between the man's legs and sprinted into the forest, barely able to see through the snowfall. I couldn't hear the dragon or the man, but I still didn't stop. The man was probably dead and the dragon didn't need eyes to see and its rider was not one to tangle with either.

Large puffs of white vapor burst from my lungs as I struggled for breath, finally slowing as I stopped on the ridgeline overlooking my home, Skull Crush village, dwelling place of the Knifepoint clan, because all of our leaders gained their power at the point of a dagger. My heart sank as I saw the smoke and heard the screams of women and children.

Burning houses and people screaming were a common enough sight thanks to the constant dragon attacks, especially the ones led by that damned Dragon Academy from Berk, but this time there were no dragons in sight, only men. They all dressed and looked the same as the man I faced before. They were short but covered head to toe in gleaming red and bronze armor. The worst part of it was though was how they seemed so emotionless.

When a Viking charges into battle he charges with his voice as well. Our screams upset our opponent if it's stronger than his and express our love for battle, but these men, these men seemed more like machines. They moved perfectly in ranks, walking calmly through the street, not a single sound escaped their formations other than the pounding of heavy bronze boots. They stopped for nothing; their only purpose was to kill.

I drowned my fear and sadness under a haze of hatred and rage, just like my father always taught me. Quietly I watched the strange soldiers' movements from the concealment of the tree-line overlooking our chief's hut and grand hall, as well as the smithy where I helped my father, Eric the Iron-Willed Thorston.

I grit my teeth as they set my home ablaze with burning arrows and dragged my mother and father into the street. Unable to pull my eyes away from the horror I could only watch as my father tried to break free. He towered over them as he managed to wrestle away and grab a massive axe in one hand that would take a normal Viking two to wield. With a powerful swing he took one of the bastards's head clean off as they tried to circle around him. They began to close in on him with their massive shields and tiny swords but he swung again, this time he knocked three of them to the ground in a daze.

But it wasn't meant to be, Thor had abandoned us that day. While my father's back was turned one of the soldiers stabbed him in the leg from behind and I forced myself not to cry as another one sliced into the back of his neck. My blood boiled over as I watched them behead him in front of my weeping mother.

Everything passed by in a red haze, somehow I found myself sliding down the side of the ridgeline, and then I was weaving through the village, until I found myself facing the backs of the remaining men who were unaware of my presence as they licked their wounds over my father's corpse.

Somehow my spear had blood on it, I didn't care, I could feel my vision turning red again as I blacked out…

I was kicking, biting, and screaming at them as they dragged me away.

I had left bodies in my wake, the bodies of my enemies.

They shoved me into the cargo hold of a ship with others.

I was chained…

**-Twelve Years Later-**

"Alright Thorston you're up, get out there and show them why they should fear you! Make me some money while you're at it!"

I glared at the fat greasy Roman who laughed as I grabbed a spear and shield then donned my helmet. I hated their language, I hated their clothes, their culture, I hated everything about these people, they were crude and disgusting, and that's a lot coming from a Viking.

I stretched and sighed as I paced up the blood soaked ramp leading to the iron bars that blocked my way into the sand-covered arena. After twelve years of fighting in this sickening heat I had finally become used to the insufferable rays of sun, but I still hated it, that's why I fought shirtless and with only a kilt bearing the colors of my home, blue and green diagonal stripes.

The voice of the announcer could be heard through the bars and throughout the arena as I waited impatiently.

"And NOW ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to introduce you to the one you all know and love. The one, the only, the terrifying, the terrible, the toughest Greek in the arena MAAAARKUS the BOOOONE CRUUUUUSHERRRR!"

I growled under my breath as the roar of the crowd sent shivers up my arms, it was impressive as much as I hated those voices as well.

But this Greek, this so-called bone crusher, was just another man in my way. A small puny, brown, short-haired little pig-sniffing shit, whose blood I would use to repaint my boots. Chances are that this puke didn't even know the first thing about crushing bones.

"AAAAND our challenger today is a new face, from a far off exotic land of snow and ice, comes a man of great stature and golden hair, a man whose heart is more frigid than the lands he was birthed in. A one-of-a-kind fighter from Icelandia a man more animal than man, I give you NAAAATHAANIEL THORRRRRRSTONNNNN!"

I was met with an overpowering wave of boo's and teasing cat-calls and howls, not that I cared. All that shouting served to no end as I entered the arena to face my opponent.

I was right…

He was a short man, his head barely reached up to my chest. Although he was thicker than me, I had no doubt I was stronger, I was a Viking after all. He wore armor like all the rest of these disgusting pigs, all shiny and bronze, a massive stupid helmet that cut off his eyesight and made him look like a bug, a bug that I would grind under my heel.

He looked up at me from across the sand, I could see his grasp on his gladius tighten as I stood there, looking bored and in no hurry. He was nervous, I couldn't see it in his face because it was covered, but I could feel it in my gut.

The crowd grew silent, waiting for the blood sport to begin.

"AAAAND FIGHT!"

The crowd began shouting as the gladiator took a defensive stance and began pacing toward me. I stood there; my spear was resting loosely in the crook of my elbow and my shield was against my knee as I just re-braided my long, golden-blonde hair.

The crowd began laughing and the gladiator looked at me as he stopped, dropped his guard and began to charge recklessly. I finished the braid as he ran within my reach.

With a lightning flick I sent my shield spinning towards his neck, of course he raised his shield to block it, which he did flawlessly without slowing, but I had disappeared from his view. I waited in the ridiculously large blind spot of his helmet as he realized he didn't collide with me. Finally he turned, but he was so slow I had jabbed my spear into his sword shoulder before he could think and he dropped his sword. Immediately afterward I rolled under him and stabbed his other shoulder, he dropped his shield as well.

The crowd had fallen silent as their hero stood looking around dumbly, completely defenseless. I chuckled so only he could hear as my spear tore a hole through his knees, one after the other.

I kicked him to his back and tore off his helmet, "So you're the bone-crusher huh?"

His eyes were shaking in fear and pain as I rested my heel on his elbow, "what do you know about crushing bones?"

He shook his head pitifully as I grinned maniacally and crushed the weak joint. His screams sent the crowd roaring and I moved to his other elbow, "You know NOTHING!"

The crowd grew silent as I broke his other elbow, and then dropped my spear. I placed my foot on his chest and yanked his arm up and twisted until the tendons ripped from their sockets and I held it up as a trophy. "You are all weak pathetic fools who know nothing of WAR!"

I reverted to my natural language, knowing no one would understand me, but this wasn't for them. "This is for you father, for you mother! I swear on every broken bone, on every drop of blood, that I will live and die a free Viking not bound by a weaker man's chains!"

The crowd gasped as I threw the arm at them and they began cheering like never before, it made me sick, I wanted to kill them all.

I picked up my sword and shield as I trudged back into the black pit of the holding area. As I neared the entrance I could hear voices, one was of the pathetic fat fool who thought he owned me, and the other was a gruff female tone.

"I see and your master is willing to pay that much for him?" I casually walked by as if I ignored them and I went unnoticed, they were deeply involved in their conversation. I listened in as I pretended to wash in a stone basin set along the wall.

"Yes, she is very rich and will pay good coin fer someone like im." I couldn't help but look back.

The female was almost as tall as I was and had long, white-blonde hair that was braided down her back. Her skin was as pale as mine and I could tell she was a Viking, I didn't care from which clan or island, she was a Viking and that's all that mattered, despite the fact that she was wearing one of those useless bed sheets these romans are so fond of.

The fat slave owner came to an agreement, "Very well, your master may consider him hers as soon as the payment is delivered."

As if on cue two Greek slaves came in carrying a heavy chest of what I rightly guessed was gold.

"Here's yer gold, now where is he?"

"Thorston come here, you've got a new master."

I growled as I stood up and walked up to him, "Yer a bleedin fool if yeh ever thought you were my master."

He doubled over in pain, lost for words and out of breath as I jammed my fingers up and under his ribcage.

I followed the Viking woman out of the pits followed by the two slaves, "I see yeh aint given up on the old ways?"

I grinned, it was good to finally have someone to speak to in my native tongue, "Neither have you by the sound o it, ahm Nathaniel by the way, Nathaniel Thorston."

She laughed and just turned away as we walked through the twisting streets of the Roman slum, "Well Nathaniel, yer gonna find this new place a bit more comfortable than those pits."

I grinned to myself, "I'm sure I will."

_But I'll only be passing through. _I thought to myself, already formulating an escape plan.

**-The Infamous AUTHOR'S NOTE-**

**Let me know what you think, it does an author a world of good to hear what people think of his work.**


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